


stargazing

by bitterepiphany



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: !feraldimitri is still a softboi deep down, Dimitri is Not Okay, Eventual Smut, M/M, Slow Burn, big spoilers for the blue lions/azure moon route!, big timeskip spoilers!, byleth has NO idea what to with his emotions, byleth just ~feels~ more than he does in the games, dimitri and byleth are BAD at expressing their feelings, the blue lions know whats up, there will be some timejumps otherwise this'll take YEARS to write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:46:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24398980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterepiphany/pseuds/bitterepiphany
Summary: Byleth Eisner did not want to be a teacher. He decided as much when he was thrust into teaching a bunch of noble brats how to fight. No matter how much his stupid, blonde house-leader smiled at him in that stupid, giddy, tingly, warmth-in-the-depths-of-his-soul way.(or rather, a retelling of the Blue Lion/Azure Moon route, where Dimitri and Byleth cannot keep their eyes off each other)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 8
Kudos: 88





	1. prologue

**1159**

**Horsebow Moon**

________________________

_Day 20 of the Horsebow Moon. All is cloudy. I can’t believe she’s dead. Lady Rhea said she died during childbirth. But is that the truth? And still, the child she traded her life for doesn’t make a sound. Didn’t even cry at birth._

___________________________

A gentle breeze stirred the fresh fallen leaves in swirls of soft ochre around the still grounds of Garreg Mach Monastery. Within its quiet brushes hides the sting of bitter cold, biting against the exposed skin of a single man, his eyes idling tracking the journey of a cluster of yellow leaves, tossed about by the wind. He watched as they soundlessly settled within the rectangular hole dug haphazardly in the ground he stood before.

 _A pillow to rest her head upon,_ Jeralt Reus Eisner mused, gazing upon what was to be his wife’s final resting place.

“It’s time, Jeralt”, came a quiet voice from his left. He closed his eyes, savouring the last of the peaceful atmosphere. He turned, meeting eyes with the green-haired woman to his left.

“Do what you must Rhea”. He stepped back, head bowed, as the four men carrying his wife’s casket began to lower it into the ground. Time seemed to pass slowly as the knights lowered, lowered, lowered, and finally, dropped. The dull thud of wood on dirt echoed hollowly across the grounds. Jeralt’s gaze remained unbroken upon the hole as the scrape of shovels filled the air.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more, Jeralt”

Rheas voice was muffled against his ears, whether through the ringing in his ears or her own choice of quiet he didn’t know. She began to walk away, his fellow knights with her, leaving him the sole mourner of the freshly dig grave.

 _Not the only mourner,_ a small voice in the back of his head whispered. Jeralt gazed down upon the bundle of blankets wrapped in his arms. The newborn dozed peacefully, unbeknownst of the sorrow in his father’s heart. Jeralt cupped the babe’s face, running his large fingers through the small tuft of teal hair. Gently, he kissed his son’s forehead.

“May she live through you”

___________________________

_Day 25 of the Horsebow Moon. It’s raining. The baby doesn’t laugh or cry. Not ever. Lady Rhea says not to worry, but a baby that doesn’t laugh or cry… isn’t natural. I had a doctor examine the child in secret. He said the pulse is normal, but there’s no heartbeat. No heartbeat!_

__________________________

_Surely the doctor must have been mistaken._ Jeralt lay his fingers upon his son’s wrist, searching for the tell-tale thrumming of life beneath the skin. Nothing. Blue eyes gazed upon him innocently as his father frowned, panic beginning to brew in his head. Rhea had asked for the baby’s name today when Jeralt confronted her about its lack of emotion. He had not named him yet, caught up in the grief of his wife’s death, and his suspicion surrounding it.

The baby surprised him, wrapping his tiny hand around his finger, and cooed quietly. Jeralt smiled, a warmth spreading through his chest.

“Don’t worry kid”, he said, “I’ll always be here for you”.

___________________________

**1159**

**Wyvern Moon**

___________________________

_Day 2 of the Wyvern Moon. Sunny. I feel I must take the child and leave. But the church is always watching us… I don’t know what Lady Rhea has planned. I used to think the world of Lady Rhea. Now I’m terrified of her._

___________________________

Jeralt had watched as his wife’s gravestone was carved.

_Sitri Eisner_

_1139 – 1159_

_Resting in the warm embrace of cherished memories_

He had lay a small bouquet of pink flowers upon the soil and kneeled before her for a while. He talked to her, idling chatting about mindless things.

“I should have left the naming to you”, he chuckled, pressing his fingertips into the warm soil.

He had named his son at long last. Byleth. He could not justify a real reason for the name, other than that it seemed to fit, somehow. The baby had yielded to reaction to his naming, as usual. Jeralt had seen no show of emotion from the child at all, apart from the smallest of coos or cries that he had translated into the wanting to be fed. He checked with the nurses who looked over him in his stead occasionally, and they had reported the same. No emotion. Jeralt’s concern grew for his son’s apathetic nature at such a young age.

_What does Rhea plan to do with him?_

___________________________

_Day 8 of the Wyvern Moon. More rain. I used the fire that broke out last night to fake the child’s death. Lady Rhea is in a state over the news. But I can’t change what I’ve done. I’ve got to take the child and leave…_

___________________________

Jeralt clutched his son to his chest, urging his horse through the forest. He glanced over his shoulder at the receding shape of the Monastery, the faint outline of smoke curling over the horizon.

His only thoughts were to take Byleth and run. He wasn’t even sure if the casual toppling of a lit candle was intentional at this point. All he knew was that he had to leave. Lying to Rhea was harder than he anticipated, the words sticking to his tongue as he feigned the grief of losing his only son so soon after his wife. The next thing he knew he was gathering whatever belongings he could carry, wrapping Byleth in his travelling cloak, mounting a horse, and running.

Byleth’s eyes gazed upon the retreating forest, face disconcertingly blank, his tiny hands peeking through the cloak resting on his father’s shoulders.

“It’ll be a new life for you and I kid”, Jeralt vowed.

They rode on through the night, the Monastery at their backs.

___________________________

_Oh my. What could’ve brought you here?_

Byleth’s eyes opened.

He stood in a softly glowing chamber of stone. He had never seen such a room before. Byleth circled on the spot, wondering how he could have possible ended up in this place.

“I wonder how you got in here?”

Byleth started, spinning on the spot at the voice. His hand jumped to his waist reaching for his sword, only to grasp at his belt. Where was his sword?

“ _How_ did you get in here?”

A small girl sat upon a throne above him. She was dressed like a queen or deity of some sort, jewellery laying heavy upon her brow, with reds and whites weaved through her strikingly green hair. It registered in the back of his mind that it was her voice that awoke him in this place. Byleth stared up at her, mouth hanging open slightly.

“Hello? I asked you a question!”

The little girl’s sharp tone snapped him out of his reverie. 

“Uh…” Words seemed to escape him.

Her green eyes stared down at his reproachfully as she leaned forward on the throne, chin poised on her hand.

“It is most rude to interrupt a moment of repose”, she said grumpily, “Most rude indeed”. Crossing her arms, she stood, her short legs offering no change in the petitness of her stature. “Now come to me”, she beckoned, “Let me have a look at you”.

Byleth felt himself drawn towards the throne by an almost supernatural force, his steps echoing throughout the chamber. The little girl observed his movements in an unblinking gaze. He noticed with a start that she had pointed ears.

“Hmm.” She twirled her hair through her fingers, that unblinking gaze seeming to cut down to his very soul. “I have not seen the likes of you before. Who are you, anyway?”

Byleth blinked. “I.. I am mortal”

“I see”, the little girl said, resting her chin upon her hand once more, “You must have a name of sorts. Go on.”

“Um”. Byleth shifted uncomfortably. What was going on? “My name is Byleth.”

The little girl leaned towards him and – the room _shifted_ -

_The rain splattered against the enormous plain, its pour silenced by the roar of a battlefield, the thundering of feet and hooves and wings alike, the scream of the dead, the thudding of flesh against flesh, steel against steel, the flashing of red light punctuating the mash of grey armour. In the middle of it all, a lone woman, dressed too extravagantly for the likes of war, faced off against a mountain of a man, more scars to be seen than smooth skin, his glowing sword reflecting off his blood-splattered armour._

“- to the sound of human names”

Byleth was pulled back into the chamber, head throbbing. He struggled to stay upright on his feet, head splitting, one half on the battlefield, one looking at the face of the young girl before him. He stared at her blankly, barely registering the words she spoke.

“You must possess a day of birth as well. Beneath which moon and what day were you born to this world?” she questioned.

_Why was she asking these questions?_

“Horse... Horsebow,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead, “Day 20 of the Horsebow Moon.”

His head _pulsed_ and he was _yanked-_

_The tip of the elongated sword scraped against her breastplate, almost causing her to slip in the treacherous mud. Her soldiers yelled her name – “Lady Seiros!” – frantically, but she signalled with a wave of her hand that this was her battle alone. She ducked and weaved under that wicked sword, struggling to get close to the man she battled._ Fine _, she thought,_ I have some tricks up my sleeve too.

_At the glint of red she watched as the sword elongated into a deadly whip and caught it on her blade, angling it so it wrapped up its length. The man, jolted by the sudden pressure, lost his grip on the sword as it was wrenched out of his grasp. It flew, landing in the mud behind her as she took off, sprinting towards him. His defences now broken, she landed a staggering kick to his chest, knocking him onto his back, unable to react as she pinned him under her body._

“ _Tell me Nemesis”, she hissed savagely, “Do you recall the Red Canyon?”_

_His pupils shrank in fear and realisation._

_“You’ll die for that! Die! Die!”_

_The battlefield was muffled by the sound of steel piercing flesh, over and over again._

_“You took away everything that I loved..."_

Byleth fell to his knees in the chamber, head swimming with images of blood-soaked steel, ears ringing with the victory cries of an army.

“Did you hear me?” The little girl frowned down upon him, seeming to be unbothered by his sudden fall. “I said we share a date of birth. Isn’t that odd?”

Byleth did not deign to answer her query, his throbbing temples occupying him more than the coincidence of this little girl’s birth and his own. His head swum, vaguely registering quick snatches of words as she continued to talk. He watched impassively as she yawned, muttering to herself too quietly for him to register. Relief washed through him as his consciousness began to fade, his last thought being of the vision of the little girl, sprawled upon the throne, looking for all her worth some sort of goddess.

_It is almost time to begin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! this is the first fic i'm posting on here, and my first big, multi-chapter project, so please don't judge my writing too hard :))
> 
> like the chapter name suggests, this is just the prologue, so just a short one as i'm just trying to set up a bit of a backstory and more characterisation for jeralt. don't worry things will get going soon! the first chapter is already done so i'll probably post that one tonight.
> 
> once the first two are up i'll try and get into a regular posting pattern (probably weekly) but don't count on it as things are pretty crazy at home and school
> 
> thank you for reading!


	2. one

**1180**

**Great Tree Moon**

____________________

“-leth!”

Byleth’s eyes opened once more, this time in familiar surroundings. He lay within his bedroll on the floor of the farmhouse he and his father’s group of mercenaries occupied. He blinked, his father’s face coming into focus, peering over him.

Jeralt crossed his arms. “Come on kid, time to get going.

“We’ve got business in the kingdom now remember. It will take us a few days to travel there and - “

“I had a dream,” Byleth interrupted, on his feet, joints cracking as he stretched his arms above his head.

Jeralt closed his mouth, eyebrows raised, a silent indicator. _Dreaming about what?_

“It was… um.” The contents of said dream seemed to elude him suddenly. “I was dreaming… about a… a battlefield,” he concluded, feeling like he was missing some other part. He wracked his brain for more details as his father went on about there being no battlefield skirmishes in over three centuries.

“Come on now-“ a firm slap on Byleth’s back jolted him out of his thoughts “- the battlefield is no place for idle thoughts. Get dressed”

____________________

Byleth observed the three young nobles walking beside him. The day had flashed by in a confusing blur of panic, fighting, proposals, revelations, and invitations. The reveal that his father was some sort of legendary knight shook him. He was unsure of the feeling, unable to picture his stoic father decked in armour leading others similarly dressed. _Though,_ he thought, _he does lead the mercenaries very well._ Perhaps that’s where he got the experience.

The abrupt departure from their band of mercenaries was disconcerting too, Byleth being unsure of his new travelling companions. He glanced over them, thoughts drifting to Sothis’ quiet voice whispering her impressions in his ear.

His eyes landed on the blonde – Dimitri, he had introduced himself as. The blue cloak clipped over his shoulder caught Byleth’s eyes, rendering him almost mesmerised by the gentle swish, back, forth, back, forth, back –

“I can show you around the Monastery when we arrive if you’d like?”

Dimitri looked over at him, gaze questioning. Feeling as though he had just been caught doing something he shouldn’t have, Byleth stumbled for an answer.

“Oh… yes,” he got out, “Yes that would be nice, thank you.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Dimitri smiled at Byleth warmly, eyes turning towards the road ahead once more.

_Your pleasure…_

Realizing he was still staring at Dimitri’s face, he jerked his head forward, swallowing heavily. A soft chuckle emerged from his left. Glancing over, the golden skinned boy – _Claude,_ Byleth recalled - smirked at him in a knowing way, amusement gleaming in his eyes. Byleth stared at him blankly.

The swirl of sensations bubbling in his chest confused him. He rarely, so _rarely_ felt like this, and never so intensely.

_What was wrong with him?_

____________________

The blur of time didn’t stop. Thrust into the teaching position at the Monastery, Byleth was bombarded with a mountain of sudden responsibilities, from teaching, to leading, to training. The harsh change from waking up and spending his days stuck to his father’s side, to seldom seeing him apart from fleeting passerby encounters in hallways and brief times together in the dining hall was disconcerting, akin to being ripped from the warmth of home into the cold open world, flailing without direction.

He had been tasked with choosing one of three Houses to lead and teach through the year. He wandered the Monastery grounds, looking for the house leaders, who also happened to be the three nobles he and his father had rescued the day prior. Byleth was unsure whether to be relieved or wary.

His feet took him through the grounds, his ears picking up on the chatter and snatches of conversation from groups of students, his eyes noting the odd glances sent his way, young minds undoubtedly wondering, _Who is_ that _person?_

He found himself standing in front of Dimitri, gazing at him idly as he prattled off the names and attributes of the other Blue Lions members.

“They’re a lively bunch, and I’m sure we’ll get into our fair share of trouble, but you’ll never find a group of harder working students”

Byleth nodded, thinking. His brow creased and he looked up at Dimitri. “What about you?”

“M-me?” Dimitri seemed caught off guard by the sudden question. “Well… um… forgive me, it’s hard to open up on the spot don’t you think,” he stumbled, running his hand through his hair abashedly.

“I’m afraid my story has not been a pleasant one…” Dimitri’s eyes darkened slightly; his hand fell from his hair, tightening into a fist. “I do hope it doesn’t colour your view of me, but I understand if that can’t be helped” His tone brightened in an almost forceful way, and he looked down at Byleth with a quietly subdued expression, as if he already expected the professor to judge him harshly.

Byleth nodded again, face passive. He stood there for a moment, contemplating silently.

“Professor?” Dimitri’s voice snapped him out of his musing. “Did you need anything else?”

He did not.

“Oh, no. Thank you for your time Dimitri”

Byleth looked around at the grounds in quiet dismay. They were too big, and no-one had given him a map or tour of any sort. He looked back at Dimitri once more, nodded for a third time, and began to walk in a random direction, hoping his steps led him back to the Archbishop’s chamber.

“Wait!” Steps crunch hurriedly behind him and Byleth turns to see Dimitri running towards him. “Professor I’m so sorry!

“I never gave you the tour I promised!”

Byleth stared at him wordlessly. Dimitri’s words hung in the air awkwardly between them.

“Oh... uh… Of course, we don’t have to!” Dimitri backpedaled frantically, colour staining his cheeks. “I’m sorry to have assumed, you’re probably busy, it was presumptuous for me to think you need a tour from me, really- “

Byleth held up his hand, halting Dimitri’s hurried apologies. He looked him in the eye, and nodded.

Dimitri exhaled in relief, a smile gracing his features.

“Well these are the grounds of the Officers Academy, and over there is….”

____________________

Byleth could not say why he stood before the Archbishop, his answer having just left his lips in such an uncharacteristically confident way. Lady Rhea gazed down at him, eyes searching, piercing. He looked away from her gaze, shifting his feet on the floor.

“Are you certain of your choice?”

“Yes”

A small smile on her lips, the Archbishop nodded, and listened as the other professors chose their houses. Byleth tried to gain a grip onto his messy thoughts, as the teachers detailed the mock battle that was to take place in a few days. His feet took him swiftly away from the chamber once he was dismissed. He was to introduce himself to the students. But instead of heading to the Officers Academy, he found himself in the doorway of his father’s office.

Jeralt looked at him in surprise. “What’s up kid?”

Byleth sat down in one of the chairs bordering his father’s desk.

“Kid?”

Byleth folded his hands in his lap, and kept his head bowed.

“Byleth” His father sat down forcefully in front of him, forcing Byleth to look up at him. “What’s wrong kid, no, no I can see it on your face there’s something wrong,” he leaned forward, forcing Byleth to maintain eye contact.

Byleth frowned, trying hard to keep him face impassive. Nobody had ever _seen_ something on his face before.

“I am unsure if the teaching position will be… right… for me.”

Jeralt huffed, a quiet laugh escaping his lips. He reached out, ruffling Byleth’s hair, laughing more as he watched his son squirm at the contact. “Give it a few days, get to know them, see how they do in that mock battle, huh?

“If you really can’t do it come talk to me again okay?” Jeralt moved his hand from his son’s hair to his shoulder. “Maybe try to open up to them a bit?”

Byleth looked at his father hopelessly at that. _I don’t even know what that means._

“Hmm. Maybe not”

Byleth stood, brushing out non-existent creases from his coat. He sighed a tiny sigh.

“Thanks”

He would go introduce himself to his new students. He was halted in the doorway by his father’s voice again.

“Which house did you choose?”

“Blue Lions”

“That’s that kid from the north… Dimitri, right?”

Nod.

Jeralt didn’t say any more, he just nodded, his face deep in thought. Byleth continued to walk.

“Just… keep an eye on that kid okay? He’s been through a lot…”

Another nod as he kept on walking. _Dimitri never did say what exactly had happened to him…_

____________________

Sweat dripped down Byleth’s brow as he faced off against who he had identified as – courtesy of Dimitri whispering it into his ear as he fumbled – Felix. The swordsman was skilled; that, there was no doubt about. But as they sparred, he noted the holes that appeared in his defense, small moments when he could have swung in _this_ way, or thrust just a _little_ harder here. Byleth humoured him for a few more seconds, before catching the wooden blade on his own, twisting his wrist just a bit in an odd manoeuvre, and in a second, Felix’s blade clattered on the sand of the training grounds behind him.

The boy blinked, staring at the hand that held a training sword just a few moments ago. He looked up at Byleth, eyes wide, mouth opening to say something –

Cheers _erupted_ from around them. The Blue Lions whooped and clapped, their cacophony of laughter and cheering echoing too loudly around the small room. Byleth glanced around at them in bewilderment, unsure what was so exciting about disarming their classmate.

“Professor! That. Was. Incredible.” A strong pair of arms were thrown around his neck forcefully, and Byleth stumbled, craning his neck in an attempt to look at the scruffy redhead who just threw himself at him. “Nobody, and I mean nobody, seriously not even Dimitri, has disarmed and absolutely _flogged_ Felix like that before!”

“Oh”

Byleth gazed around at their happy faces, an odd feeling spreading through his chest. His facial muscles twitched in a weird way. He rubbed his cheeks in an attempt to get rid of the strange sensation.

“Oh, Sylvain!” A female voice rose above the rest and Byleth looked toward the ashy haired woman frowning as his assailant. “Please let go of the Professor, I’m sure he’s not comfortable with you hanging off of him like that.”

The pressure around his neck eased, Sylvain grinning at Byleth before turning towards the group. “Come on guys! I don’t know about you all, but I’m hungry as shit, and I plan on doing something about that.

“So come on, let’s all share a good meal with our new professor huh? How’s that sound?”

A chorus of approval greeted those words, and the next thing he knew, Byleth was pulled along by the tide of his new students towards the dining hall.

He trailed behind them quietly, listening idly to their excited chatter about the year to come. His eyes were drawn to the swishing of Dimitri’s blue cape once again.

As though he could sense his teacher’s eyes on him – _why did that keep on happening? -,_ Dimitri glanced back at him, slowing his strides, and fell into step beside Byleth. “Your swordsmanship really is incredible to watch,” he said earnestly.

Byleth nodded, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the praise. “It was nothing really, just a simple disarming manoeuvre,” he murmured, fixing his eyes on the path ahead of him.

Byleth really couldn’t seem to keep his eyes in one place, as the sudden peals of laughter that came from Dimitri jerked his gaze to the young noble once more.

“Oh so modest Professor!” He watched as Dimitri chucked, bewildered. What was so funny about what he said? Yet, he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the noble’s face, so open and young. He gazed at him silently, watching as Dimitri’s face morphed, his laughter fading, his face changing from light and carefree, to slightly confused and wary.

The moment suddenly feeling awkward, Byleth tore his watchful eyes away from the blonde, staring steadfastly ahead as the group began to filter into the dining hall.

Just before he took a seat along one of the benches between Felix and a petite red-haired girl – _was it Annette? –_ a loud voice rang out through the room.

“Yo Teach! How come you ended up with that group of stuffy northerners?” Byleth craned his neck around the room, spotting the tanned skin of a student he – _thank god –_ actually recognized. Claude grinned at him, his fist hitting his arm gently as he stood before him. Byleth looked at the spot he was touched, unsure of what to say to the Golden Deer house leader.

“Oh Claude you _wish_ you had this madman as your teacher instead of old Hanneman,” Sylvain drawled animatedly, “I kid you not, he _disarmed_ our darling Felix here as easy as if he was taking a stroll down the hall.”

Claude’s eyes widened, and he looked towards Felix disbelievingly. “No kidding?”

“No kidding” Felix sighed, shaking his head morosely. “But for the record, it was _not_ as easy as Sylvain claims,” he grumbled, taking another bite of his food.

Claude turned back to Byleth mouth opening to say something else but was interrupted by the calls of his name from what Byleth assumed was his own house members. He waved an arm at them in exasperation, turning to walk away. “I’ll see you around Teach!” he called over his shoulder.

Byleth sat down finally, taking in the food on his plate. It seemed to be some sort of fried fish, accompanied by greens. Byleth hummed happily. He liked fish.

He crammed as much as he could eat into his mouth, savouring the way the flavours worked together. A soft snicker next to him caught his attention. He glanced up.

The students cast fervent looks at him, their amusement hidden behind their hands shining in their eyes. Byleth, his cheeks stuffed to the point they bulged, looked around at them in puzzlement. Even Dimitri, who sat across from him had his lips curved into a soft smile as he focused with unwarranted intensity at his empty plate. Byleth felt his cheeks warm. He glanced down at his plate again. It was almost empty already? _How odd_ , he mused as he chewed.

He could still see the students glancing at him as he ate. Perhaps they wished him to speak to them? If so, he didn’t really feel like talking to them all at once very much. Instead, he looked at Felix sitting next to him. The boy looked bored, his eyes slitted so they almost closed, as if he was resting.

Byleth cleared his throat. “You are quite skilled with the sword,” he supplied.

Felix looked at him in mild surprise. “I know, thanks.” He shifted so he faced Byleth. “But you are very skilled.”

“There is a lot you can improve on.”

“Oh…

“Can you teach me that skill you used to disarm me?”

 _It was his new job to teach, wasn’t it?_ “Of course… I…” He searched for the right words. “I will show you how to be better.”

“Thank you” Felix nodded, seemingly satisfied with the exchange. He turned away to look at Sylvain, scoffing at something the latter said.

“Oh Professor, may I ask a question?” Dimitri leaned across the table slightly, fingers splayed out in front of him.

Nod.

“The sword skills you possess… did you learn them all from Jeral- ah, your father, rather?”

Byleth cocked his head, thinking. He had learned everything from Jeralt did he not? He could not recall a day that didn’t go by where his father did not teach him something, whether it be a small fact about an animal or plant they encountered, or some new sword technique he had recently mastered.

“… yes.”

Byleth supplied no more than that, his eyes locked with the ones across from him.

Byleth and Dimitri simply looked at each other, one gaze curious and searching, the other just blank, the former unaware of the grapple Byleth was having within his head. Why was his chest tightening in such a way? Why did his cheeks keep on trying to twitch? Perhaps he was ill. He wondered where the physician lived in this place. Ah but it was late, and no doctor wished to tend to a patient with such odd and vague symptoms. The most likely explanation was that he was simply tired.

He announced as much to the table and stood to leave, breaking his gaze with Dimitri’s. He did not notice the glances between the two of them the other students gave, and stepped over the seating bench.

“I shall see you all tomorrow then.”

With that, he strode away.

He could not shake the feeling that Dimitri’s eyes were upon his back until he walked out the door.

____________________

Byleth sat in his chambers, listening to the quiet hustle and bustle outside his door as students prepared for bed.

He wished to go to his father.

But Jeralt’s earlier words echoed in his head, stopping him from making the long trek up to the captain’s quarters on the second floor. _Get to know them…_

He simply did not know how to. Battle seemed the only thing he excelled at, but just fighting his students seemed counterproductive to that goal, aside from learning their battle styles, their strengths and weaknesses with a sword. He suspected his father meant to get to know them _emotionally_ , hear their hopes and dreams, find out what they were passionate about, what they feared, what kept them up at night.

The simple truth was that Byleth had no idea how to broach such topics, because he himself did not even know what they meant. If someone asked him his wildest desire, he could not answer. His only goal up until now was to survive until the next morning, then repeat, day after day, until the years had passed and the only truth in his life was that he simply _existed,_ nothing more, nothing less.

The idea had not bothered him until now. Now, he looked at himself and he felt lost. Lonely. Even his father, the one man he trusted with his life, did not know what to do with him. It was with a sharp pang in his chest that he could not say he loved his father. He did not even know what love was, what it felt like.

Byleth looked down at his hands, peppered with the small scars he had accumulated over the years. He had never questioned his humanity, his mortality, until this day. Now, he was not so sure. He had looked around at his new students, the people around the monastery, and had felt like an outsider.

But there was nothing he could do about it. The only thing to do was exist, day after day, and do the very best he could to lead these students.

Byleth lay, and slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oop we got a little heavy at the end there-
> 
> i'll see if i can do a weekly update schedule, but if i finish chapters faster (which i probably will) i'll just post them as they're finished. 
> 
> suggestions and advice is welcome!
> 
> thank you for reading!!


	3. two

**1180**

**Garland Moon**

____________________

His father was sitting on the edge of his bed. He stared at him darkly, Dimitri watching quietly as blood began to drip from underneath the crown heavy on his head. His father’s head jerked, as if hit by an indivisible force, a slit appearing in his throat. He closed his eyes. He heard the wet thud, accompanied by a body sliding onto the floor.

His eyes opened.

His father had disappeared, but Dimitri was not fooled. The blood still remained upon his bedsheets, slimy and wet between his fingers. He scrambled to his feet, heart thumping uncomfortably fast on his ribs, and gathered up the bloodstained sheets.

Someone was knocking at his door. _For how long do I remain deaf to the outside world…,_ he mused quietly, gazing at his now bare mattress. He could see spots of blood on that too. _I will have to get the cleaners to steam it._

“Your Highness? I could hear you through the wall. Were you crying?” Dedue’s voice carried through the door into his room. _Crying?_ Dimitri touched a hand to his face. His cheeks were indeed wet, but by blood, sweat or tears he could not tell.

He shouldered open the door, almost bowling the taller boy over. “I am fine Dedue,” he snapped, striding towards the stairs, “I need to wash these bedcovers.”

“Uh… they don’t look too dirty to me Your Highness…”

Sylvain leaned against Felix’s bedroom door frame, quirking an eyebrow as Dimitri rushed past. Dimitri ignored him. He would have to wash his clothes too, he noted with some annoyance.

“The boar’s been dreaming of blood it seems…”

Felix’s hissed words snaked past his ears, following him as he hurried down the dormitory steps.

____________________

Dimitri was no stranger to this scene. The laundresses would cast concerned looks over at him, whispering quietly to themselves as they complained about the waste of cleaning powder washing his ‘clean’ bedcovers and clothes. But they did not dare refuse the future king of Faerghus, especially with _that_ look in his eyes.

What Dimitri did not anticipate was the Professor walking into the room, eyes locking onto him. He approached quietly, and proceeded to sit down next to him, his gaze shifting to the women as they greeted him, nodding in return.

Dimitri expected questions to be thrown his way, but the Professor just sat there, eyes tracking the movements of the laundresses scrubbing his sheets.

To put it simply, the Professor was _odd_. He kept very much to himself, his eyes blank, almost cold, his face seldom shifting into an emotive expression. He was soft-spoken and kept his words succinct and simple. But even Dimitri could not deny he was a master on the battlefield, a brilliant strategist, and a bloody demon with the sword. He had proved as much in their house training sessions, Felix proving to be the only one who could serve as his partner, barely keeping up with his lightning-fast strikes.

The mock-battle between the houses had solidified this fact, as did their first mission in the Red Canyon. He seemed to see everywhere at once, issuing his orders with precise efficiency, seeming to see where the enemy would target before they even moved.

But Dimitri was cautious, despite how the man’s movements simply _mesmerised_ him – he often found himself watching him flow across the battlefield, running this way and that, his movements so smooth and confident, striking, dodging, and cutting down the enemy with brutal skill.

What unnerved Dimitri was the _emotionlessness_ in the way his Professor did everything; the same expression on his face, no different, whether he was reading a book, or snuffing out a life with the slash of his sword. He just didn’t seem to care; he would just walk away from someone he killed without a second thought.

“Dedue talked to me” The Professor spoke suddenly, angling his face towards Dimitri slightly. “He seemed concerned that you were not okay when you woke up. He told me I could find you here.”

Dimitri turned to look at him, a bit surprised to hear the concern in his voice.

“I – “

“I want you to know that if there is anything troubling you that you can… you can come and talk to me about it.”

The words seemed to tumble out of the man’s mouth in a rush. The Professor looked at him, an uncharacteristically embarrassed look on his face. Dimitri was struck by the realisation that he was _trying_.

He suddenly felt like a child, his petty worries bothering all those around him. It was unacceptable. This was _his_ burden to bear, no others.

“Ah Professor, I thank you for the concern, but there isn’t anything to worry about” He stood, painting what he hoped was a carefree smile on his face. “I will tell Dedue it was nothing.”

He paused in the doorway, looking back at the Professor. The words on his tongue died as he beheld the man’s face. He was looking at Dimitri, and he looked _sad._ Sad and slightly disappointed. Something twisted in Dimitri’s chest painfully.

He took a step back towards his Professor. “But – “ his hand tightened into a fist unconsciously, nails digging into his palm - “I will try to take you up on your offer, if I ever need to.”

____________________

The class revolved around in the training ground, sweat misting the air. Dimitri grunted under the force of Dedue’s axe. He held his stance, arms trembling with the exertion as he pushed against the axe. His teeth gritted painfully; his feet began to slip in the dirt until – _his crest flared –_ Dedue was thrown backwards as Dimitri pushed him away with overwhelming strength. The man caught himself before he toppled on the ground.

 _I really need to work on controlling that,_ he thought to himself. It would do him no good on the battlefield if he relied on his randomly flaring crest to win against physically bulkier opponents.

Lost as he was in his thoughts; he didn’t notice the class had paused in their sparring until Felix approached them. Dimitri looked up at him in surprise. What was going on? Felix was the Professor’s sparring partner, keen as he was to learn their teacher’s swordsmanship style. And truthfully, he was the only one who could barely keep up with the man in a swordfight.

The Professor himself walked up to them, two training swords in his hands. He gestured at Felix and Dedue.

“Try to imagine he’s in the standard heavy armour,” he said to the former, “Look to hit the chinks they have in them, you know, elbow, knee, the sort...”

A pair of nods, and the two were off, circling each other. Dimitri looked at the Professor in confusion.

“Um Professor? What’s going – “

“You and I are going to be partners” A training sword was thrown his way. Dimitri caught it clumsily, watching as the man settled into a stance opposite him. He just stared at him, waiting, patient as ever.

“Come on,” he gestured at the lance Dimitri clutched up to his chest along with the training sword. “No lance”

Dimitri reluctantly threw the weapon aside. He could fight with a sword, but it felt uncomfortable, awkward. He settled into a stance, searching his memory of what Felix usually looked like when he did this. He looked at his teacher across from him, and just tried to breathe. _Why am I so nervous?_

The Professor ran at him.

Dimitri barely had time to react, swinging his sword up in front of his chest to block the wide, arcing slash aimed at his chest. The wood barely made contact before his teacher swung away again, another slash already coming for his unprotected right side. Dimitri could not get a single blow in, firmly on the defensive, just barely parrying and blocking his teacher’s sword. Dimitri was used to Dedue’s heavy, straightforward blows, not this – this _dance_ the Professor was weaving around him, so fast he could hardly keep track of his body, his blows not as hard as he was used to but quick, disorientating.

The Professor leapt back as Dimitri swung a wide, low sweep in an attempt to hit him. He twisted on his heel as he rushed back to him, and in a quick flick of his wrist, the sword flew from Dimitri’s grip – _the same manoeuvre he used on Felix the very first day_ , he noted dryly.

The Professor turned back to Dimitri, spinning the sword in his hand in a movement that seemed more show-offy than anything else, coming to rest it upon his shoulder. There was a look in his eyes, one Dimitri had not seen before. It was almost wild, exhilarated with the thrill of the fight. Dimitri found himself captivated, mouth hanging slightly agape, eyes unable to move from the man.

The Professor just stared back, that near-feral look on his face.

The moment passed quickly, the Professor realising that the rest of the class was watching them quietly. He frowned.

“Did I tell you all that you could stop?”

The class jerked back into motion, a collective blush gathering. The Professor walked over to him and retrieved his sword, chucking it back at Dimitri. He stood next to him, settling into his opening stance, indicating that Dimitri should do the same. Dimitri tried to copy him as best he could.

The Professor circled him. “I understand you are aiming to be a cavalry unit?”

“Yes sir”

“Horses are killed easily.” Dimitri started when the Professor grabbed his wrists gently and pried one of his hands from the sword pommel. “Lances are very quick to snap, if your opponent knows where to put the pressure.

“You must be prepared for anything. Stop training like a cavalry unit when you are on the ground. Stand up straight when you fight.” A hand went to Dimitri’s back, unbending it.

“Shoulders back. More. Use your height to your advantage. Feet like this. Little closer… mm… good, like that.”

Dimitri tried his best to fight the growing warmth in his cheeks as the Professor worked to correct his form. _Why in all hell was he blushing?_ He attempted to focus.

“Remember, you cannot fight like you are holding a lance with a sword. Two very different weapons.”

His hands went to Dimitri’s again, prying the left hand that had rested back upon the pommel. “Not a lance,” he chided softly, a gentle look on his face as he regarded Dimitri.

He was very close. Dimitri gulped, trying to resist the sudden urge to brush the locks of hair that blocked the Professor’s eyes away. _What is wrong with you,_ he berated himself internally. He wasn’t _this much_ of a beginner at swordplay. So why did he feel like he had never held the weapon in his life?

The Professor stepped back quickly, his eyes snapping away from Dimitri’s. Was he blushing? No, it must still be from their spar before…

The man observed him, head tilting, eyes narrowing slightly. He nodded, looking satisfied. He picked up his sword from where he had discarded it on the ground.

“I know you are a lance user,” he settled into his opening stance again, “But - forgive my bias - the sword is very useful. You never know when it’s the only thing you grab from a foe if your main weapon breaks or is lost.”

Dimitri braced himself, feeling more confident. The Professor charged.

He went easier this time, slower, more deliberate, allowing Dimitri to scope out his actions, watch his movements. They danced around each other, the Professor barking out corrections at him.

“Back straight!” He narrowly parried a blow aimed at his neck. “Don’t step that far, smaller steps are better, try again, slower this time.”

They moved back and forth, Dimitri trying his best to disarm the Professor; his teacher patiently correcting his form every turn. They progressed like this for a while, not stopping even when the rest of the class stopped their work, packing up around them, before coming to settle in a group to watch.

Just as Dimitri thought he spotted a small opening in the Professor’s defences and swung toward it, he found himself blinking in shock as his sword landed in the dirt behind him. The class applauded around them. Dimitri chuckled to himself quietly. The man really was _too_ good with that sword.

“You pick things up quickly,” the Professor said, taking the sword off Dimitri, “You would not object if we trained together for the future?”

“No, not at all”

The Professor nodded, and there was a gleam in his eyes that seemed to soften his usually stoic face. _He looks content, if anything,_ Dimitri thought, smiling to himself. A snicker reached his ears from his left. He looked over. Sylvain grinned at him, winking. Dimitri snorted, shaking his head. _Goddess knows what that boy thinks he’s caught onto._

“Come on! Clean up, eat, and meet me back in the classroom – no later than 11!”

Dimitri kept on smiling as he followed the Professor outside.

____________________

The Professor told them the news of their mission that night in the courtyard after dinner. The mood quietened considerably as the name of their target passed the Professor’s lips. Eyes shifted to Ashe, who stood awkwardly, face pale.

“It’s not supposed to be a dangerous mission,” the Professor said quietly, “We’re to join the knight’s rear-guard, there’s no fighting expected. We’ll continue to train as normal.”

His eyes flickered over each of them.

“Go get some rest” His gaze lingered on Ashe. “I’m here… if anyone wants talk about anything.”

They dissipated in silence. Dimitri started after Ashe, words of comfort lingering in the back of his head. But his feet carried him elsewhere, and he found himself standing in front of the Professor’s room, fist raised to knock. He lowered his arm, confused. He could have sworn he was headed to Ashe’s room. Frowning, he turned to leave.

 _Knock,_ a little voice in his head whispered.

He turned and did so.

He was quiet shuffling behind the door, and it opened. The Professor stood there, hair mussed, as if he had been lying down. Dimitri couldn’t find any words, his brain noting the way the soft cotton shift the Professor wore hung loosely on his frame, collarbones peeking through the collar.

 _Fix his hair,_ the little voice enticed. The Professor’s mouth moved, but Dimitri didn’t register what he said. _Where are these thoughts coming from?_

“Dimitri”

The words reached him this time. He blinked down at the Professor.

“Huh… o-oh Professor, sorry, my mind must have wandered”

His stuttering gained no response. The Professor just tilted his head slightly at him. Dimitri struggled with the urge to bolt from the vicinity.

“I just wanted to tell you that Lonato, the man we’re going after this month, he’s Ashe’s father… well… adoptive father.

“So, I came to ask, that maybe if we were to hear that Lonato died, or something similar, Ashe might be excused from the mission?”

His words lingered between them. Dimitri cursed himself. Who did he think he was telling his teacher what to do?

The apologies bubbling to his lips were ceased when his teacher nodded. The Professor sighed and retreated into his room. He left the door open, gestured for Dimitri to come in, and sat down on his bed. Dimitri sat down gingerly on the chair behind the desk. The Professor did not protest.

“I was made aware of Ashe’s… family when they told me the mission.” The Professor closed his eyes, head tilting back slightly. “If Ashe does not want to, I will not force him to come.”

Dimitri felt his shoulders relax slightly. “Thank you, sir”

The Professor regarded him for a few seconds, head still tilted back. “You look stressed. Have some tea.”

Dimitri was too surprised to respond as he watched the Professor spring up from his bed and seemingly grab a teapot from mid-air. A wreath of flames lit the teachers fingers as he filled the pot with water and leaves with practised ease. The next thing he knew, Dimitri was cradling a warm teacup in his hands.

“It’s camomile, helps me sleep sometimes,” the Professor said, seated on his bed again.

Dimitri savoured the way the hot liquid slid down his throat into his stomach. It felt soothing, relaxing muscles in his back he didn’t realise he had clenched. He sighed, feeling sleepy all of a sudden.

The Professor was watching him. “Go sleep Dimitri,” he murmured, gently prying the empty teacup from his fingers. Dimitri stood. His eyes met the Professors. _Dark blue… like a stormy sea…_ He shook the odd thought out of his head.

“Thanks for the tea, Professor.”

____________________

The thick fog curled around the camp they had set up in Magdred’s Way. It seeped through their cracks in their armour, wracking shivers down their bones, causing them to seek refuge huddled around the fire.

Dimitri sat next to Ashe, who had not stopped trembling since they set foot in these woods. Dimitri suspected it was from more than the cold. The boy had refused to stay at the Monastery, despite the Professor giving him the option to. The class whispered quietly to each other, spoons scraping against bowls as they ate. The Professor stood on the edge of the camp with Catherine, listening as she briefed her men.

The Professor walked back over to them afterwards, crouching in front of the fire. Ashe looked up at him, eyes wide.

“No news,” he said, raising his voice slightly so all the camp could hear him. Ashe’s head drooped. The class watched as he stood, shook his head, and ducked into his tent.

They all hurried to sleep after that.

____________________

They had barely left the camp when the messenger came.

The rest was chaos.

____________________

The fog made the fighting disoriented. Dimitri panted for breath as he looked around for his classmates. He heard the Professor shouting orders to his left and hurried off towards his voice. He glanced behind him, spotting the faint red glow of Catherine’s Thunderbrand.

He ran headfirst into someone. The person grunted under the sudden pressure, and a pair of arms encircled Dimitri so he didn’t topple onto the ground. He looked up, gasping.

“I’m sorry I – “

His breath hitched sharply. The Professor gripped him tightly, looking down on him in concern. His hair was messed up, a streak of blood smeared on his face.

“Are – are you okay?” The Professor asked breathlessly, eyes wide. Dimitri realised with a jolt his fingers had come up to touch the Professor’s cheek, tracing the blood there. Dimitri jerked out of his grasp, heart beating fast in a way he didn’t think was to do with the battle. He opened his mouth to form some half-hearted excuse when the fog just _vanished._

Catherine stood over the body of a mage, eyes scanning the battlefield. Ashe gasped.

Lord Lonato stood not 50 metres away from them, surrounded by a band of – were those _townsfolk?_ Their scrambled together armour, paired with rusting weapons seemed to suggest as much. Had they been fighting plain civilians this whole time? The thought chilled him.

Lonato snarled harsh words at Catherine, his eyes blazing with anger. It was between his rantings that Catherine gave the order. A collective yell rang out across the field, and they descended into chaos once again.

____________________

Lonato fell to a slash from Catherine’s blade. The man’s dying words were of his son as he fell hard to the ground off his horse. Ashe’s scream echoed through the forest, lingering harshly in their ears. They watched his small form push through the knights and fall to his knees.

“He’s still alive!” he cried out desperately pressing his hands to the wound on the man’s chest, “We can stop the bleeding, can’t we? Take him back, qu-question him?”

The others just looked on, at a loss as what to say.

“Please? Please, he’s still – still breathing, please!”

Dimitri heard the girls begin to cry quietly behind him. He stepped forward. “Ashe…”

“He’s dead.”

The Professor spoke quietly, coming to stand beside Ashe. He extended his hand to the boy. “We need to go.”

Ashe refused his hand. “No,” he moaned, “No, no, no, it wasn’t him, Lonato’s a good man, I swear, he wouldn’t, he – “

His words twisted into vicious sobs. He collapsed upon himself and gently rested his forehead upon the bloodied breastplate. His body shook.

They stood in silence, the boy’s cries ringing in their ears.

____________________

Dimitri stood next to his teacher, watching Ashe’s retreating back as he ran towards the village.

“For his sake, I hope his siblings are okay…”

The Professor nodded quietly. He had not said a word since Ashe had rejected his help. He had not expressed even the tiniest bit of emotion either, Dimitri noted with growing unease.

“Those people we were fighting… they were civilians” Dimitri spoke to himself, but the Professor looked over at him anyway, so he continued.

“I killed them… those who I’m sworn to protect”

The Professor looked up at him. “That is the reality of war,” he whispered softly, shaking his head.

Dimitri stared at him in shock. How could he say such a thing so casually? A wave of hot anger engulfed him, and he exploded.

“Are you insane?!” he cried out, causing heads to turn. “Those were not knights, they were no soldiers, but fathers and sons! We have no right! We… we shouldn’t have killed them. We should have found another way; we – we could have found another way! But we just slaughter them all the same.

“And you!” he snapped his head up to meet the eyes of the Professor. “Have you no remorse, no sorrow for what we have done; for what _you_ have done?!” His arm flung out and pointed in the direction of the town. “Have you no compassion for what our actions have done to Ashe? To his family?!”

The Professor flinched at his harsh words, taking a step back.

And just as quickly as it came, the anger dissipated. He looked at his Professor, something akin to real pain on the man’s face, his downturned eyes. Regret and guilt washed over Dimitri at the look. _What sort of person are you to lay the blame on this man, when he was just following his orders? He didn’t know this was to happen, you fool._

Dimitri looked at his feet, shame tightening his throat. “I – I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “I should not have blamed you for the circumstance… my head gets it, we had to do what we had to do in order to save more lives, but… but my heart, it – “

The Professor just held up his hand and shook his head. That sad, sad look in his eyes, he rested his hand on Dimitri’s shoulder and squeezed, ever so gently. He walked away towards Catherine, who had a scroll in her hands and a grim look on her face.

Dimitri was left standing in the clearing alone, as a fog, a real fog, curled around his boots.

____________________

**1180**

**Blue Sea Moon**

____________________

Ashe didn’t come to class for the next week. Dimitri got the girls to deliver food to his dorm, encouraging them to invite him for meals, a seminar, to train, even if they got refused at every turn.

The class was different. The stain of Lonato’s death, and the civilians they took down with him, lingered in their heads for a good while. They were quieter, more serious in their training, striving harder and faster with each coming day. There were even moments when the Professor had to insist to all of them that they had to take it easy, even with the looming threat of an assassination plot staring them down.

Dimitri found it difficult to look the Professor in the eyes when he taught. The guilt and shame over his outburst their last mission washed over him every time his eyes met the man’s. This was made no easier by the fact that he and the Professor were now sparring partners for the foreseeable future.

After a few days, he was fed up with it all. He could not have this lingering guilt affect his training for any longer. So, the first Sunday night of the month, Dimitri found himself at the Professor’s bedroom door once more. A knock, and the door opened, revealing his teacher in a similar state to what he was a month ago.

“May I talk to you for a moment Professor?”

A nod, and the Professor stood aside, closing the door quietly behind him as Dimitri sat.

“I – I wanted to apologise,” he began, eyes not raising from his hands clasped in his lap, “What I said to you, after the battle in Magdred, it was uncalled for, unacceptable actually. I will take whatever punishment you deem fit for my actions.”

He glanced up at the Professor. A teacup hovered in his vision. Bewildered, Dimitri took it.

“I’m not planning on punishing you for what you said Dimitri.”

His confusion grew. “Uh… why not?”

“I’m not going to stop you from speaking your opinions. You especially.

“You’re going to be future king no? I mean, your opinions need to be heard more than anything don’t they?

The man sighed. “I share your sentiments, if you can believe that. I just – I’m not very good at expressing my emotions.

“I wish to give you all ample opportunity to grow into what you all wish to become. In a way, I never got that chance. I was thrust into the mercenary lifestyle with no knowledge that I could be anything but what I was raised as. Now don’t get me wrong, I do not resent my upbringing. I am grateful for it, if anything. But sometimes I wonder what life could have been like if I had the opportunities you all have.”

Dimitri had never heard him speak like this before, so openly, so honestly. He felt strangely honoured, to be the one to hear it. He finished his tea, a warmth growing in his chest.

“Professor,” he began, “Forgive me for my bluntness, but I fear there’s no other way for me to say it.

“You’re a great teacher, Professor. I’m confident in saying that on behalf of all the Blue Lions, that we consider ourselves very lucky we got you as our teacher for the year.”

He looked up at the Professor, and his breath caught. The Professor was _smiling._ It was small, but a smile, nonetheless. Dimitri leaned forward.

“Do that again”

Another smile, slightly bigger this time. It transformed the Professor’s entire face, lighting up his eyes and softening his features.

_It was adorable._

Dimitri tried to ignore the rising thought, tried to bat it away with distractions; to no avail. Not here, not now, not when he saw that damned smile right now in front of him.

Dimitri smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! so i've decided for sure that i'll be posting weekly updates, as it just lessens the stress a bit with balancing schoolwork and other stuff. 
> 
> ive made a few little changes to the earlier chapters, nothing major, mostly formatting stuff and a few different phrases here and there so there's no real need to read it all again.
> 
> see you all next week!  
> thanks for reading!


	4. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! im so so so so so sorry this took so long, but im afraid covid and life simply caught up to me.. things have calmed down a bit but i wouldn't expect a regular update schedule from me unfortunately.
> 
> i will work on updating as soon as i possibly can while trying to fit everything in during my exam term :))
> 
> anyway hope you enjoy the chapter! thanks for reading!

**1180**

**Verdant Rain Moon**

____________________

  
They stared at the path to the dining hall. What had before just been a simple walk from the training grounds was transformed into a _literal swamp._ The rain had started in the middle of their session and was pounding _so hard_ and _so fast_ they could barely hear themselves think.

Byleth stood with his students crowded behind him. He held his hand above his head, fingers counting down. _5, 4, 3 –_ they braced themselves – _2… 1._

“Go!”

They bolted through the rain, mud splashing up, their squeals of dismay barely audible through the hammering water. Byleth jogged after them, not fancying getting muck all over his face. As a result, he now resembled someone who had been thrown into the lake. To be fair, the kids were no better, up to their knees in mud, streaks of it over their clothes, their faces.

The kids grinned at him happily, and a warm contentedness spread through Byleth’s chest. A bundle of towels was shoved into his arms. He blinked at the Head Chef, who scowled over at the dripping group.

“Clean them up before you eat, puddles around my hall won’t do me any good”

Byleth nodded, calling the group over before they made more of a mess. A collective groan rose out of them at the sight of the towels in his arms.

“Come on then”

Their grumbles echoed through hall as they scrubbed themselves dry. Byleth observed them quietly, running a hand through his hair. _Oh._ It was still dripping wet. He glanced over at the entrance, beholding the sheets of rain that pounded on the ground. _No use getting a towel from elsewhere…_

“Professor! You look like a drowned rat!”

Sylvain called out at him, grinning like a fiend. _He’s got that look in his eyes,_ a voice whispered in dismay. “I’m sure one of us has – Dimitri! You’ve got the spare towel, right? Help the Professor dry off”.

“Huh? Me?”

Dimitri turned to face them, a weirdly flustered look on his face. Was he blushing? Byleth shrugged, ignoring the soft snickers emerging from the class, the wink Sylvain sent towards Dimitri. _Kids._ He shook his head slightly, wondering if his father felt like this around him.

He walked up to Dimitri, mouth quirking slightly at the look on the boy’s face. Dimitri seemed to relax at the look, readying the towel in his hands. He placed it gently over Byleth’s head, soaking up the wetness in his hair and stepped back.

Byleth just looked at him, an odd feeling stopping him from moving to dry his hair.

“Oh, do you want me -?” Byleth found himself nodding. Dimitri tentatively placed his hands on his head, rubbing gently. His eyes followed Dimitri as he worked on him. _He has been drinking the chamomile tea you gave him after that night…_ the voice whispered, it’s – _her –_ presence a weight in the back of his mind. _He smells like it,_ he admitted back, feeling, rather than hearing, her pleased humming at his acknowledgement.

He took the towel from Dimitri once he deemed his hair dry enough. He wiped his arms and chest free of remaining water, before handing the towels back to the Head Chef. She shook her head in exasperation.

It had become routine over the last three months, to teach, eat, sleep, repeat. He had stumbled over lectures, trying to learn the student’s strengths, trying to lead them down goals that would suit them for the future.

Felix was a skilled swordsman with aspirations to be a swordmaster, but Byleth saw his aptitude for reason and magic, and he was attempting to push him towards focusing more on that goal, despite the boy’s firm resistance.

Annette worked too hard. Byleth would often find her late at night in the library, muttering to herself about some magical equation sleepily. But she took to magic like a duck to water and it made Byleth warm seeing her squeal over every new spell she learned, showing it off to Mercedes.

Mercedes shied away from direct conflict, insisting on being the group’s main healer, but as a consequence, her mobility was top in Byleth’s priorities, but teaching her how to ride a horse was proving to be a challenge.

Sylvain loved to flourish his fighting skills on horseback, but focused more on flashy, superficial movements – to impress the girls, Byleth assumed – rather than actual practical battle movements. So Byleth tried to pair him up with Felix, Dedue and Dimitri whenever he could, in the hope that the more studious boys would ‘encourage’ him to pick up his act.

Dedue was the tank of the class, his assertion on his role as ‘The Sword and Shield of His Highness’ causing some concern for Byleth at his insistence to never move from Dimitri’s side. He and the prince were having a hard time convincing him that, one, Dimitri could defend himself adequately on his own, and two, sometimes Dedue was more useful positioned elsewhere in the group.

Ashe had a one-track work ethic on his goal as a sniper. Being the sole archer of the group, pressure fell on him to back up the whole group alone. So, he and Byleth had discussed and come to the conclusion that Ashe would focus on his flying skills on a wyvern, giving him much greater range and mobility

Ingrid was a model student – there was no other way Byleth could put it. Like Annette, she would work and work and never stop. She was a proficient lance user, but not quite proficient enough to merit her staying on the ground. Luckily, she loved flying, and Byleth was trying to encourage her to practice her bow and sword skills in order to widen her abilities.

Dimitri was adept at lance and riding, but Byleth pushed him to expand his sword and authority abilities, trying to help him fight with less brute force and more skill. He was improving his sword skills with every coming day and was determined to control the random bursts of inhuman strength that his crest granted when it flared at inopportune times.

_Oh yes, your little princeling is veerryy strong isn’t he…_ Byleth ignored the amused voice in his head, trying, unsuccessfully, to push her into the back of his mind.

She tisked softly. _Speaking of…_

Byleth’s eyes were drawn to Dimitri as he started on his meal. The boy poked at his food with a fork, took a chunk of meat, brought it to his mouth, held it there for a good five seconds, before finally placing it in his mouth. He chewed very slowly, fingers drumming on the table in an almost impatient manner.

_Have you ever seen him eat anything with… with enthusiasm?_ The – her – voice questioned suddenly.

He did not recall. He did not make a habit of staring at people when he ate… except now, apparently.

_You ought to be more observant you know,_ she griped at him. He tried to ignore her again, staring resolutely at his plate. But no avail, she continued to demand his attention, prodding his mind impatiently.

_What exactly are you suggesting then?_ he sniped back at her. She huffed and he could imagine her shaking her head at him.

_And I find it ever so rude that you do not even address me by my name!_

He sighed through his nose, closing his eyes.

_Sothis…_

She hummed, contentedness washing over his consciousness. She faded into the back of his mand once more.

He kept his eyes closed for a few more seconds. The girl’s – Sothis’ – voice and presence had been with him since the day he had met Dimitri, Claude and Edelgard. He hadn’t really registered it at first, the memory of her slipping away from his grasp when he woke in the mornings, until finally the pieces had come together, and he remembered her name. Now she was a constant companion, sometimes whispering bits and pieces in his head, sometimes floating along like a ghost in his surroundings.

His eyes flew back open at the cackle of laughter that came to his left. Sylvain was bent over next to him, wheezing incomprehensibly at a red-faced Dimitri sitting opposite.

“You… you’re unbelievable,” he laughed. Dimitri seemed positively _flustered_ , hissing angrily back at Sylvain. The table had splintered from where Dimitri gripped it. The rest of the class were in varying states of amusement, Ashe and the girls giggling behind their hands, Felix failing to suppress a smirk, and even Dedue had an upward tilt to his mouth, eyes gleaming. Byleth observed them, puzzled. Dimitri glanced at him, face red, choked, and hid his face in his hands.

_That kid really is hopeless,_ Sothis cackled, now floating outside his head as she settled lightly on Dimitri’s bent over back.

_What do you mean?_

Sothis just laughed.

____________________

Byleth had just woken up when a loud rapping at his door caused Sothis to grumble and groan, rolling over into his side. She scrabbled at his chest weakly. _Make them go away,_ she mumbled.

Shoving her aside unceremoniously, Byleth ignored her complaints, attempting to smooth down his hair as he opened the door. He was met with an amused looking Dedue, fist still raised to knock. It appeared that Dimitri was trying - and failing - to hide behind the other boy’s bulk as well. He peeked out from behind Dedue’s shoulder, but darted back, face red when his eyes met Byleth’s.

Puzzled but not wanting to get involved with the odd actions and happenings that the Lions did – he was resigned to thinking that it was just a ‘teenage’ thing.

_You forget you’re not much older than your little pupils,_ Sothis yawned from behind him. He pretended not to hear her.

“Professor,” Dedue bowed slightly, still looking oddly entertained, “We – uh Dimitri, was hoping you would accompany him for some breakfast… uh… privately, if you – “

“You – you don’t have to!”

Dimitri ducked out from behind Dedue, face flaming.

“Ah, of course,” Byleth said, “I would be happy to, but let me get into some more appropriate clothes.”

Dimitri make an odd noise and hid behind Dedue again. Byleth frowned, concerned.

“Are you feeling ill Dimitri? We do not have to do anything if you aren’t up to it.”

“Oh no, His Highness is not sick Professor,” Dedue smiled again. “Ah, well not ill in a physical sense, anyway.”

A hissing noise akin to an angry cat arose from the boy in question.

Sothis settled over Byleth’s shoulders, cackling into his ear.

_What’s so funny?_

She laughed harder. _You’re clueless, you know._

He shook his head slightly and indicated to Dedue that he would be a couple of minutes. Sothis continued to laugh as he shut the door and turned to dress. He pocketed a bag of camomile as an afterthought. _In case he wants some tea._

He stepped outside to a noticeably fidgety Dimitri. At the sight of his teacher, he took a deep breath through his nose. Byleth watched as the prince seemed to melt back into his usual unruffled composure.

“Dedue had some things to attend to. I apologise for my behaviour beforehand, I… have had a few things on my mind.”

Byleth nodded. “Shall we?”

They ambled towards the dining hall in comfortable silence. Byleth wondered what Dimitri wanted to talk to him about. Just as he suggested to the prince they grab their plates and sit out in the courtyard, they were interrupted by a frantic looking Cyril.

“Professor! I found you!”

“Hello Cyril”

The young boy bowed swiftly. “Lady Rhea wishes to see you Professor… immediately, if you’re able.”

“Is it about this month’s mission?” Byleth questioned lightly, noting the crestfallen look coming upon Dimitri’s face.

“Um… yes, I think so.”

“Alright,” Byleth sighed, standing. He gestured to Dimitri. “Come on.”

Dimitri’s eyes widened slightly. “Are you sure Professor? If it’s just meant to be between you and Lady Rhea…”

Byleth waved him off dismissively.

“It won’t be an issue if it’s about the month’s mission – you are my house leader after all.” He threw a small grin at the boy. Dimitri ducked his head slightly, ears reddening. Byleth looked mournfully toward his full plate of breakfast. Now he would have little time to eat before class. The pair strode towards the staircase to the second floor.

___________________

“Whatever Lady Rhea has to say to me, Dimitri can hear it too, Seteth”

The green-haired advisor frowned at Byleth after reluctantly letting them into the audience chamber, disapproval written all over his face at the sight of Dimitri at Byleth’s side.

Byleth didn’t much care for the man and the obvious suspicions he harboured about himself. He just waved the reluctant prince into the room and stood before Rhea. She seemed unperturbed by the appearance of Dimitri with Byleth and smiled serenely at them both.

“I would like to discuss your class’s mission for this month. You are to join the Knights of Seiros in patrolling the grounds for enemies during the Goddess’s Right of Rebirth at the end of the month.”

“While the reality of the assassination plan is unlikely and fragile at best,” Seteth cut in, “We must not take any risks at this important ceremony. Rhea and I will be locked inside the Goddess Tower for the day, so our safety is of utmost importance.

“While the Knights are mighty in their own right, they will be spread too thin to offer any great protection. Therefore, we are placing the duty of dispatching any attackers to your class, and the other houses.” Seteth crossed his arms, eyeing the pair shrewdly.

Byleth mulled over this information for a few moments.

“Won’t that put the students in danger?”

Rhea frowned, pursing her lips. “I believe that the students are perfectly capable of this task. It is their duty, is it not? Besides, this is no different to dispatching a group of bandits, like your first mission, I think.”

“Of course,” Byleth backpedalled quickly, sending a nullifying glance over to Dimitri, whose mouth had opened as if to add some of his thoughts.

“I am counting on you Professor”

Rhea’s face had smoothed back into serene neutrality. It unnerved Byleth.

“We… we will do all that we can.”

Rhea positively beamed at them. She nodded to Seteth and turned to leave. Byleth took this as a sign that the meeting was over. He glanced at Dimitri. His eyes were distant, eyebrows furrowed.

“Come on,” he murmured to the prince, “We might still have time to eat something.”

___________________

The prince remained thoughtful throughout the morning, being absentminded during the lectures, starting whenever Byleth asked him a question. He approached Byleth during the lunch hour as he was packing up.

“May I speak for you for a moment Professor?

“See, I wanted to… talk… to you about this month’s mission and the… supposed assassination plot…”

He spoke very slowly, as if he were carefully contemplating each word before he spoke it. Byleth tilted his head.

“You see I – “

“Just tell me what it is Dimitri.”

The blonde jerked his head up and met Byleth’s eyes, face wary. They stood like that for a second, before the prince sighed, shoulders slumping.

“I’m sorry Professor,” he apologised, “I should be able to tell you whatever I’m thinking, shouldn’t I...

“See Professor, I do not believe that the assassination plot is just that. It seems to have drawn up such a fuss that everyone is distracted by it and – “

“You believe it is cover for some other plan?”

Dimitri looked thrilled. “Yes! I’m so glad you think the same! It seems perfect for a cover-up – distract the Knights and students so they are occupied with guarding the Goddess Tower, then slip into the open monastery and doing something else!”

Something warmed in Byleth at the sight of the boy’s enthusiasm. Sothis had emerged out of nowhere and floated upon his desk, listening intently to Dimitri as he laid out his suspicions.

“So, I wanted to ask you Professor, since your influence here stretched much further than mine, if you were able to ask around and see if there’s any other place of importance here, or something valuable that might be stolen?”

The now slightly breathless boy looked up at Byleth again, eyes bright. Dimitri always seemed to excel at this kind of stuff, seeking out Byleth to offer advice and chip in on the plans for the month, suggesting new training regimens, and always chatting along to Byleth after a battle they might have fought, forever seeking new ways to improve himself and the other members of their house. 

Byleth seemed to find himself looking forward to these little moments between them.

“Professor?”

It was Byleth’s turn to start, shaking himself of his thoughts. He smiled at Dimitri, ignoring the way Sothis giggled when the boy ducked his head.

“Of course, Dimitri. I will do some asking around.”

___________________

The monastery was surprisingly much more lenient with its secrets than Byleth first assumed. It seemed the monks and workers trusted him enough to tell him virtually anything he wanted, no matter how bluntly Byleth asked.

He dismissed the notion that the dining hall or library would be targeted. There was no need for such a complex cover-up if some renegade thieves simply needed some meat or some books.

The greenhouse was also crossed off his list after some consideration. While the flowers were beautiful and the medicinal herbs certainly helpful in times of need, he was not quite convinced by the earnest monk claiming the 995-year history was contained solely within the flowerbeds.

That left the treasure vault and the Holy Mausoleum. Guards stood outside the latter at all times, but Byleth was told by a nervous-looking Flayn that it would be open to the public on the day of the Rite of Rebirth. He mulled this over in his mind as he searched for Dimitri on his last free day before the mission.

He found the boy chatting to Dedue in the Blue Lion’s classroom. Byleth gestured them over.

“I have asked around about anything that may be the target of thieves or the such on the day of the Rite.”

He explained his findings to the boys. Dimitri’s frown grew with every sentence.

“I see,” the prince murmured, “A place that will be open to all on the day, a place that the Knights will not think will need protecting…”

Byleth crossed his arms, the answer fairly obvious in his mind. “They plan to attack the Holy Mausoleum.”

Dimitri nodded vigorously. “We may be wrong, but it would do us well to check on the Mausoleum during our rounds next week.”

“We would have to exercise caution Your Highness,” Dedue deadpanned, gazing intently at the prince. “We do not know the might of our enemy, and would do well not to underestimate them, if they do indeed exist.”

Dimitri’s face cleared of his eagerness at his vassal’s words. “Of course… forgive my enthusiasm, Professor, Dedue.” He shook his head, “It would seem that I am treating this like some sort of exciting game, when really it is a matter of utmost seriousness.”

“There is no harm in some anticipation Dimitri – “ Byleth ruffled the blonde’s hair gently, “ – but do remember the reality of our situation.”

The prince blushed and stammered at Byleth’s touch.

_Careful Byleth,_ Sothis laughed. The damned girl only seemed to come out when this kind of stuff happened. Even Dedue had to stifle a grin arising on his face.

Byleth sighed, choosing to ignore them all. “We shall train more vigorously this week in preparation. Let your classmates know about the plan and fill them in on any details. We all need to be as prepared as possible, okay?”

The boys nodded and made their way out of the classroom, Dedue not managing to contain his smile as Dimitri grumbled at something the older boy said.

Sothis settled on his shoulders. _You’d better keep an eye on him… make sure he doesn’t get hurt…_

Byleth grunted at her mocking tone. _Shut up._

___________________

“Careful, you’ll end up hitting yourself if you swing that hard.”

The group of youths squealed and laughed as they clattered their wooden swords against each other. Byleth watched over them, glancing over at Dimitri, who was attempting to correct one of the young boy’s form.

Dimitri had approached him the night before, requesting assistance with training a group of orphans’ in sword skills. Byleth had agreed readily and now here he was, watching as a young girl whacked what he assumed was her sister across the shins with a training sword.

He glanced at the sky as he attempted to console the now sobbing girl. He straightened and made eye contact with Dimitri.

“Time to pack up everyone!”

A din of complaints mixed with cheers met his words as he gathered the swords and started to clean the training grounds up. He heart gave a little squeeze as he saw each child run up to Dimitri and give him a hug around the legs. A chorus of ‘Thank you, Your Highness’ and ‘Thank you Mister Byleth’ faded away as the orphans ran out of the grounds.

“They certainly are eager”

The prince ran a hand through his hair. “That they are…” He looked over at Byleth, a mischievous grin creeping up his lips. “Care to have a match Professor?”

Started by the sudden request, Byleth chucked a sword to Dimitri out of habit. “Huh. Sure.”

They faced off in the middle of the room. They locked eyes for a moment. Dimitri lunged.

The prince certainly had gotten much better at his swordplay. Their sparring during training had done him well. Byleth now found himself watching the blonde much more intently, watching the way he moved, the way he now balanced his absurd strength with a hidden gracefulness to his movements. He watched the way his shirt pulled taut against his chest, the way the muscles in his arms were much more defined, such a contrast to the usual covering of armor the prince usually donned.

All of a sudden, his sword was nearly knocked clean out of his grip. He jumped back hastily to avoid the prince, who adorned a new devilish grin on his face.

_Fuck._ He had to focus.

He doubled down on his efforts, eyes now pointedly fixed upon the boy’s sword, swinging just that bit faster, just that bit harder until… he lunged forward aggressively and swept the prince’s feet out from beneath him. They fell hard, Byleth’s knee planted firmly on Dimitri’s chest, his sword balancing against his throat.

“Check”

Dimitri stared at him hard for a few moments, eyes unreadable, chest heaving with exertion. His voice came, deeper and huskier than normal.

“Checkmate”

Something stirred in Byleth’s chest, spreading to his stomach and … lower.

He panicked, scrambling to get off the boy, mind racing. What was he thinking?

But the moment had passed. Dimitri got to his feet chuckling. “You certainly don’t hold back Professor. But almost got you.”

Byleth couldn’t help but smile wryly in the blonde’s direction, trying to ignore that _feeling_. “That you did.’

They packed up and walked back to the dorms in companionable silence. Dimitri paused at the stairs to the second floor.

“Goodnight Professor.”

“Goodnight Dimitri.”

___________________

The air in the Mausoleum felt _off_. The whole place was laced with what Byleth had to assume were weird variations of healing tiles and the overall ominous energy was not helped by the terrifying-looking skull-faced knight in the middle of the room.

Byleth eyed the room. There was a fairly even mixture of enemy forces here and _how_ they managed to get these numbers and even that knight’s _horse_ in here undetected was beyond Byleth.

“Ingrid, Sylvain, Annette, Dedue, take the left, keep tight, cover each other! Felix, Dimitri, Ashe, you’ll come with me on the right! Mercedes, stick close to the left group but try and keep everyone in range for a physic just in case!”

Yells of assent surrounded him, and the group split off into their various groups.

_That knight…_ Sothis appeared above them all and scanned the room. _He has a very dark aura… stay away from him at all costs! Don’t be afraid to use a pulse just in case anything goes wrong!_

The time-traveling power Sothis had gifted him with he was wary of, as it made him feel like his head was going to split in two, but he heeded her just the same.

“Keep away from that knight in the middle at all costs!” Byleth yelled, his order echoed by Dimitri and others as it reached the opposite group.

They moved fast, wary of the mage trying to get Saint Seiros’ tomb open. Though Byleth didn’t know what they intended to do with a bunch of bones, his gut (and Sothis hovering anxiously above him) told him that he absolutely had to stop that tomb being opened.

The first part of the fight went smoothly enough.

Until Dimitri bellowed Felix’s name just as they reached the staircase. Byleth turned and watched with horror as the skull-faced knight’s scythe gutted Felix so hard the other end stuck out of the boy’s back. His armor glinted with the sudden red wetness. Screams echoed around the chamber as the class realised what had happened.

“Like moths to a flame…”

The knight turned his head toward Byleth. “You were warned. I – “ he jerked his arm and Felix’s body thumped to the floor, unmoving, “ – will not spare you any mercy.”

Byleth saw his student’s broken body lying on the floor at the knight’s feet. Something in him snapped. Bellowing, he ran toward the knight, fury lighting up his bones. He readied his sword and –

_Stop it!_ Sothis appeared in front of him suddenly, grinding him to a halt. _Stop, Byleth! Think for once, you oaf! Use a Pulse!_

Byleth yelled in frustration. He reached into his mind and _tugged_.

The world fractured. He felt his body pull back to a previous spot, bodies warping, his stomach flipping over, cracks of light leaking in through the shards of reality. After what could have been two hours or two seconds, the world snapped back into place. Wasting no time getting reorientated, he lunged forward and grabbed Felix’s arm just before they reached the staircase.

“Felix,” he hissed to the shocked boy, “Do not challenge the knight, you hear me?”

The boy opened his mouth the retaliate, jerking his arm out of Byleth’s grip. But before he could snipe back, Byleth slapped him across the face. Their little group halted, shocked eyes upon the two.

“You follow my orders, understand? This is not a joke!” Byleth pointed his finger in Felix’s reddening face. “Understand?” he repeated.

“Yes sir,” came the mumbled reply.

The knight made no move to attack them after that, seemingly content to observe the battle around him.

All went smoothly as they reached the tomb-raiding monk, to Byleth’s great relief. They regrouped before the tomb and looked toward the thief.

“It’s too late! I’ve got it open! I – what?”

The began to pull something out of the casket. Byleth readied his sword and charged. As the monk turned around, Byleth swung his blade, knocking what he had pulled out of his hands. It gave a great arc above their heads. Byleth reached out and caught it.

It was a sword.

It was unlike any sword Byleth had ever seen. Longer than what Byleth was accustomed to, it had a jagged edge and was made of rough material.

_Is it made of bone?_ Sothis whispered faintly in the back of his mind.

But there was no time to examine the sword in detail. The mage was readying a fireball, and without thinking, Byleth swung the sword through it when it fired his way. Instead of the burning pain he readied himself for, the sword seemed to _absorb_ the fireball. He watched in amazement as is started to glow. _What on earth?_

Deciding to just go with whatever the hell was going on, Byleth threw his old sword to the side and faced the monk. Realising what he was up against, the monk threw up a barrier. Byleth broke through it with ease and slashed the man to the ground.

It was over then.

Any remaining thieves immediately surrendered and just as he looked toward the skull-faced knight, the man in question warped out of existence with a purple flash.

“Damn!” cursed Dimitri loudly, “He got away… but no matter now. Professor! What _is_ that?”

Byleth looked down at the odd sword in his hands. It continued to glow softly. He noted how natural the hilt felt in his hand, as if it were made just for him. He only realised just now how _light_ it felt in his hands, disproportionate to the size of the thing.

Ashe had come up to him and gazed at the sword with starstruck eyes. “Is that a Hero’s Relic professor?”

“A Hero’s Relic…” Byleth echoed. “I don’t know. But I’ll keep it for now and ask Lady Rhea. Is everyone okay?”

They murmured words of assent and reassurance. Mercedes flitted in between them, healing stray scratches and bruises.

Frantic footsteps echoed through the chamber suddenly, causing the group to flinch and reach for weapons.

“Who’s there?” Catherine’s voice boomed, and they relaxed. “Oh, it’s just you guys… what happened?

“You, round up any stragglers.”

“Yes ma’am.”

All of a sudden, a heavy exhaustion came over Byleth. He sighed. The battle had been much more intense than he had anticipated. He couldn’t bring himself to look Felix in the eye. Dimitri, seeming to sense his teacher’s weariness, rounded up the group.

“Come on everyone, let’s go back.”

___________________

As badly as Byleth wanted to fall into his bed and sleep the rest of the day away, reports had to be made, and consequences had to be issued. So, Dimitri and himself were now watching as Rhea doled out punishment for the leftover thieves they faced in the Mausoleum.

As Seteth and Rhea prattled on about how these newly revealed Western Churcher’s had defiled the Saint Seiros and the goddess, Byleth spared a glance over at Dimitri. The prince’s face was closed and drawn, a small frown scrunching his eyebrows together. The look only worsened when Rhea announced the punishment would be death.

The men from the Western Church protested vehemently against this sentence but Seteth simply shut them down with a few sharp words. Dimitri was openly scowling now.

_He’d better hope Rhea takes that look as anger towards the Western Church men…_

Sothis, seated on the floor at his feet as she watched the proceedings, hummed in agreement at his thoughts.

The men were sent out to their dooms, their cries of fear and anger echoing throughout the audience chamber as the door slammed shut behind them. Rhea turned to Byleth

“I would like to talk to you now Professor.”

She sent a pointed glance over at Dimitri.

Byleth placed a hand on the boy’s back, causing Dimitri to look at him questioningly.

“Go get some rest Dimitri,” he murmured quietly, “You’ve done well today, you’ve earned a break… okay?”

The blonde nodded, carefully neutral mask slipping to show the same fatigue in his eyes that Byleth had.

“Okay,” he nodded. He bowed to Rhea and Seteth and strode out of the room.

Byleth faced the green-haired pair again, gripping the odd sword in his hand.

The resulting conversation was filled with talk he barely understood, talk of crests, the goddess, Hero’s Relics, and how he suddenly was in possession of great power. To his and Seteth’s surprise, Rhea let him keep the sword – the Sword of The Creator, she called it. Feeling as if they were not telling him everything, Byleth thanked the pair and walked to the doors.

Sothis had been unusually quiet this whole time. When the doors clicked shut behind him, he held the sword out to her to inspect. _What do you think?_

_I’m… I’m unsure,_ she murmured, _it’s as if I’ve seen this sword before… it’s like the one that lady had… Ca- cat…_

_Catherine?_

_Yes! Catherine! But even then, this one seems… different… somehow. Ugh, it makes my head spin… quickly now! To bed!_

Byleth chucked. He agreed. This day alone was enough to make anyone’s head pound.

It was time for a long sleep.


End file.
